


Sunset on The Isle of Giants

by Tenebrex



Series: Tales of a Hunter [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Class - Hunter, Gen, Mists of Pandaria, Patch 5.4.8, Race - Female Troll, The Isle Of Giants, World of Warcraft - Freeform, Wow, roleplaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenebrex/pseuds/Tenebrex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The secrete behind finding a new pet-friend is patience. <br/>Many just force their collar over the tiny creatures’ heads, forces them into submission. And it works, I guess. The pet follows them and obeys them. But they're never happy about it. They never feel safe or at home. If freedom is presented to them they’ll take the chance no matter what in a heartbeat. <br/>I like to think I have a different approach than most. Whether it be because of my heritage, my specialty or just because I’m that kind of person, I’ll leave to your interpretation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunset on The Isle of Giants

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-read. I'll edit it later and write a note when it is done. If you see any mistakes feel free to point them out so I can correct them. This is just something I have started writing to get over my huge writers block. Feel free to ignore. 
> 
> Enjoy.

The secrete behind finding a new pet-friend is patience.

Many just force their collar over the tiny creatures’ heads, forces them into submission. And it works, I guess. The pet follows them and obeys them. But they're never happy about it. They never feel safe or at home. If freedom is presented to them they’ll take the chance no matter what in a heartbeat.

I like to think I have a different approach than most. Whether it be because of my heritage, my specialty or just because I’m that kind of person, I’ll leave to your interpretation.

I have traveled to the isle off of Kun-Lai’s coast in search for the tropical creatures that lurks on the spec of land known as _The Isle of Giants_. The Zandalari trolls have made this piece of land their base, it is here they breed their beasts for their war. I have never understood how our ancestors can be the same. Their ruthless and careless handling of the dino beasts makes me ill.

The tiny raptor I have my eye set on is properly a reject of the Zandalari. Too small and not aggressive enough for their purposes, though he does try his best to kill off my toes. I could have fought off his attacks by wearing “real shoes” as the other races call them, but I’m a Darkspear. I like feeling connected to nature, like to feel the rough textures under my skin. It makes me a lot better at my job than most others. So this little toenibbler can just do his worst. I have faced off beasts ten thousand times greater than him. His tiny teeth properly can’t even break my thick skin.

I start my taming like most others do, by tiring the little guy out. My fossilized hatchling Rexy is real good at that. I found him on one of my digs where I was searching for fragments of ancient history. He was buried under lots of dirt and was real hungry. I scooped him up and fed him and he hasn’t left my side since. I still think a skeleton raptor baby is a little weird, but the Spirits know I have seen far worse than him.

Rexy makes quick work of tiring his fleshy cousin out. When the little one has trouble standing on his feet I throw my trap. He’s too tired to escape it and it locks in place around his tiny body. It’s a job well done and I treat Rexy for his good work before sending him off to play.

I set to work on a small fire to cook my meal over. This is going to take a little time so it’s better to just get comfortable and be patient. The little one in the trap hisses at me every time I get too close, but I ignore him. In time he will see I wish him nothing but the best in the world.

Spike, my great direhorn and most trusted friend, walks around me, monitoring the surroundings. He isn’t too fond of being back here and I cannot blame him. He huffs at me when I look at him, probably telling me I’m too sure of myself to not be on my guard while visiting a place like this. I do not tell him otherwise, I don’t tell him of the horror worlds I have seen long before I met him or the wars I fought long before he was even born. He will only feel bad for having not been there for me if he knew about the icy lands of Northrend that I wandered, about the roaring fires of The Firelands that I battled my way over or the cold depths of Vashj'ir filled with one deep-water horror creature after another and so on. This isle and its inhibitors are not too much of a threat, despite their powers and great numbers.

Though I do still remember the first time I set my eyes on this isles wonders, on the beasts that wandered it and the Zandalari that herded them around with whips like dogs. The magnificence of the mere size of the beasts stunned me, I remember that very clearly.

I had heard of this isle from fellow hunters and allies that had heard the stories of the Dinomancers that had found a way to tame the mighty beasts. I might have been too eager to learn something new, I admit that. I stormed to the isle as quickly as my mount could carry me, only to nearly lose my life to the strength of the Dinomancers. I was still naive I think, still a rookie in this strange new land. I don’t know if it is sad or a blessing that I can no longer use that description upon myself.

It quickly changed though. I remembered my training and used it to fight the Zandalari I came across, ruthlessly and without mercy I slew every troll with the Zandalari mark, hoping to find some sort of answer to their powers over the beasts. I did not feel remorse for ridding the world of a few Dinomancers. The beasts and the world was probably better off without them anyway. In my eyes they had deserved their fate the second they started torturing the animals.

I don’t even remember how many I tore apart with my arrows before my luck finally showed itself. One of them had a small book in their pocket and in it was written all of their secretes. How they linked their mind to the minds of the beasts to force them into submission.

Meeting Spike wasn’t even part of the plan. I had planned to learn the secrete and leave again to find new knowledge elsewhere like always. Always moving, always learning, always fighting. That was and still is my life and a life I like.

Walking through the forests of the isle, I came across a small lake where a family of green direhorns where bathing. I had concealed myself, ready to sneak past them and let them be when my eyes fell on a much smaller direhorn to the side. He was clearly the runt of the litter, so much smaller than the other youngsters in the pack. He was being denied the water by his much larger siblings and looked like he hated life itself for being so cruel to him.

It was pure incident that had our eyes meet. He looked over with an annoyed huff, probably giving up on enjoying the water like his family when he saw me hiding in the shadows under a large plant’s leafs a few feet away. It was like time just stopped, like a spark ignited in my chest. His eyes held so much wisdom and I felt his mind already reaching out to mine to figure out what I was, who I was and why I was spying on his family.

I didn’t really think when I reached back, baring my soul to him. I guess I scared him by lifting my hands, because he charged me in a panic, afraid that I was going to attack. I remember wondering how many people from my world came to this isle, how many only came here to kill and conquer the beasts to have a trophy to show at the nearest inn.

I was surprised about the complex mind I had to navigate to force him to see into me. Never had I met a beast with a mind so grant and colorful before. Had it not been for the tricks in the book I got from the Dinomancer, I fear that he would have ended me right there before I even got a chance to show him I meant no harm.

Luckily I did. I found a weak spot in his mind and squeezed it to end his attack. When he stopped I forced my mind into his and bared my soul to him. After that I just let him investigate. It took a long time because he didn’t trust me. I was a stranger, I looked a lot like those mean Zandalari that tried to forced his kind to do terrible things.

He searched my memories, saw my past and learned the truth. I was an adventurer, a fighter, a Hunter of the Darkspear Tribe. I could be trusted because I was _nothing_ like the Zandalari.

I can’t remember how many hours we spend just exchanging stories underneath those leafs. It was marvelous how our minds connected. I had always had an understanding with the other beasts I melted minds with, but this was like talking to one of my Darkspear brothers. We could turn it on and off, speak in words or pictures, it didn’t matter.

When the sky had turned black I took my leave. I had to get back to my camp and my companion Zoey that was waiting for me. I knew she would grow worried if I came too late and would venture out to look for me. It was part of her nature. As a wolf she was used to protect her pack, always knowing where they were. Our travelling had her uneasy as it was. A wolf is a territory animal, used to guard and protect only one place.

Spike went back to his family and I to Zoey.

I told her all about my discoveries and about Spike. She seemed pleased and eager to learn about my solo adventure without her. She had gotten hurt in our last fight and had to stay back because she was still recovering.

That night we got a visitor I was not expecting. Spike had followed my scent to our camp. I was woken up by growling and sounds of a fight. Zoey had taken stance in front of me, blocking Spike’s path to me to protect me from attacks. She was furious and I knew she would do anything to protect me from harm, even if it meant her getting hurt again. Spike was growling back and it was clear that neither of them understood each other. It was quite a sight to behold, watching a wounded wolf hold of a gigantic dinosaur at least five times her size.

I jumped up and calmed Zoey down. I told her gently to back off, that this was Spike, the direhorn I had told her about earlier. She seemed confused at first but backed down trusting my judgment, but not before she had given him a warning growl. _Do. Not. Touch. My. Friend. Or else…_ It probably didn’t work that well after she had to limp back to our packs to lie down.

I greeted Spike and offered him a place near the fire that had nearly burned out. He went but sat on the opposite side of me. When I asked what he was doing here, he told me that his family had tried to kill him because they deemed him too weak to survive and that he would only be an inconvenience to them. He had escaped but had nowhere to go, so he had just followed my scent, hoping that I was still on the isle. He hoped that I could help him become stronger so his family would see the potential he himself felt inside.

His misery was clear in his mind. He was truly without any other choice, he had nowhere else to go, no one else to rely on. I felt bad for him. Without knowing what I could do, I agreed to help him and spend the next week teaching him simple attacks and commands. Even Zoey helped him, gave him advice and encouragement. With her help Spike became a decent fighter in no time at all. I even took him hunting when our supplies ran short.

He was right. He really was a born fighter, a hunter just as me. He followed all of my advice and learned to support me where I was weakest, places I didn’t even know I needed help. Zoey was a great companion but Spike seemed to fill a space that had never been filled before and he did it all just by observing me while I moved and listening to my thoughts. I grew as a Hunter just by being near him.

Zoey saw that too. It wasn’t even two weeks after Spike had joined us that she asked to speak with me. She knew that her injury would never heal completely, that she would never be able to fight with me like she used to before. She was growing old, and was longing for a quieter life and perhaps a few cubs too. She asked for my permission to return to her birthplace to live out the rest of her life in peace.

I was sad, of course I was. Zoey had been with me for a long time, since I first travelled the plains of the Twilight Highlands, but I knew that she had seen far more battles that what her nature had made her for. I had found her in the prime of her life, the sole survivor of her pack which had been slaughtered by The Twilights Hammer. She had agreed to become my companion to get revenge and she got that a long time ago. It was natural that she wished for peace now. I had always known that the time had to come, the time where she would want to start a pack of her own and live in peace. Sadly my life didn’t allow something like that. I was an adventurer, a fighter. I lived day by day never knowing what was to come. Zoey wasn’t built for that life.

I gave her my permission and my blessing with a heavy heart. I knew I would miss her greatly, but that she would be better off in her home land. She had served me well and deserved peace for once.

As I lifted my collar that marked her as mine from her neck, she gave me a small lick to remove the tears that had escaped my eyes. I never cried, but somehow it happened anyway. _“Don’t be sad”_ she said to me, _“You know where to find me and I will always be your friend. You will always be welcome in my pack.”_

I agreed and told her thank you. I would never forget her.

Spike followed all this with interest. When Zoey walked off in the night he bumped my elbow and asked where she was going. I told him the truth while I squeezed her collar in my hands. She was going home.

Two days later I packed my things. I needed to get going. I had already been on the isle for far too long. I knew that other people would be in need of help and it was better to just get going instead of sitting on some remote isle mourning the loss of a companion.

Spike seemed panicked when I said farewell. He didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t strong enough to go back to his family yet.

I told him that I couldn’t stay any longer, that I had other places to be. He didn’t care. He wanted to come with me. He wanted to learn and experience. Wanted to see the world beyond this isle. Always had.

It wasn’t an easy journey I was going on, I told him. I was going into war, to fight for my life and the lives of many others. It was ugly and hard and sometimes without any hope of getting out alive.

He didn’t care. He just wanted to come with me. So I said yes. I needed a new companion anyway and Spike had already proven himself to be a capable fighter and an easy learner. So I presented him with the collar and told him that if he agreed to put it on, all races would be able to see that he was with me. He would be safe by my side when we entered cities and met people on our way. He didn’t even hesitate. He let me bind it around his right horn, when it proved much too small for his neck and wore it proudly from that day on. Later I used my skills in Leatherworking to craft him his very own collar and even carved his name into it with a knife.

It is safe to say that that decision might have been the best one I have ever made. It certainly seems like it now, when I stand here, back on the Isle of Giants months after leaving it with Spike by my side, looking at him walking around. He is so much larger and stronger now and have become a friend I never thought I would have. A warrior that I think neither of us had thought he could become.

I shake my head at the memories and sit down beside my fire, making sure to keep a decent distance between me and the little toenibbler in the trap. I can hear Rexy sheik happily nearby. He has found a small pool of water where he is entertaining himself. I smile to myself, happy for his joy.

Spike decides to join me, deeming the surroundings safe enough for now. He bumps down on my left side, the side he favors and has made his own. He knows that we can stand against nearly any enemy, that our fighting technique is razor-sharp as long as he is covering my left and I his right. He growls softly to the hissing toenibbler in the trap but otherwise ignores him in favor of nudging my elbow with his snout. His long strong tail wraps around my back and he scoops so close to me that I can easily lean against his massive body.

The power I feel in his muscles every time we sit like this never ceases to amaze me. The pull and blow of his breath in his belly, the thick scales rubbing against my armor or the heat radiating from within him. He is truly one of the greatest beasts I have ever met.

I sigh when the feeling of _safe_ wraps around me. It is something that I rarely feel in these days, and I can’t even remember the last time I have felt safe for more than a few hours at a time. Perhaps it was in my early years when I was no more than a youngster fighting against the other children of my tribe with sticks. Back when The Echo Isles was the center of my world and the roughness of a lifetime of war didn’t make my heart heavy in the silent hours.

I still remember that time, though it is cloudy. The first official training session I went to when I had barely seen my 12th year. The excitement I felt back then, that we all felt. We were ready to learn how to serve our people, how to protect and safe keep our tribe. How to serve our chieftain Vol’jin with every ounce of our souls. By the Spirits, I never anticipated I would be sitting here today, having seen the things I have.

But that first training session I will never forget. The arsenal of weapons laid out before me, the potential they held. Axes, swords, shields, staffs, knifes and daggers. But the one that had the greatest pull on me, the one that seemed to call out to my soul, is still the clearest in my mind. A simple branch bend by a string not much thicker than a few strands of my hair. A hunting bow, lying off to the side by itself, looking like a broken toy next to all the shining metal that had my friends mesmerized.

I remember the trainer Ortezza’s smile when she saw my eyes wander to the bow. How she nodded at me once and encouraged me to pick it up. I will never forget the feeling of the wood under my hands the first time I ever held a bow, of the power I knew I would once hold after I had mastered it.

A sad smile shows on my face when I remember the words she spoke to me after I had picked the bow up. _“Just like ya father. I be seeing great dings in ya future, dat’s for sure.”_ I never knew my father. He was killed in battle before I was ever born, but I was told stories about him as a child. He did great things for our tribe and was a formidable hunter himself. Perhaps that is where I got my talents from.

Spike nudges me again, effectively pulling me out of my thoughts. He hums while looking at our packs. I can’t help laughing when I hear his stomach growling behind me. Yeah, it’s time to get something cooking.

I pull our food pack to me and unwrap a few chucks of ribs I harvested from a great mushan beast yesterday. I find a few squashes too and arrange it all on sticks hanging over the fire. Spike huffs pleased and settles back to wait for the food to cook. I never understood him and his tastes. He likes to eat cooked veggies instead of raw like all other beasts do.

Well, he can have them like he wants. I know I eat my meat cooked, but mainly to avoid getting a sickness. I don’t know why, but I just like my meat bloody and undercooked. It might be something genetic, something in my blood from the time when my people were cannibals. I don’t know. I just know I can’t afford the risk, not with how the world looks today and besides, the thought of eating one of my own makes me sick. I guess I’ll never understand how my ancestors could do it.

I dig into the pack again and pull out a handful of the needle mushrooms I have packed away in there. Spike perks up immediately and I throw the shrooms into his mouth when he opens it gladly. They are gone not even three seconds later, but Spike looks happy. They are a small treat I have bought for him the last time we were in a city. He deserves something delicious after the hard times we have seen lately.

Leaning back again, I turn my eyes towards the sky. It’s getting darker and more colorful. The sun is setting on another day and I wonder about the nature I see before my eyes.

It has been close to two years since this magnificent land was discovered by accident and already so much has changed. Pandaria is the world nobody had ever dreamed could exist, and yet here it is. New people to understand, new stories to hear, new enemies to battle, lands to conquer. New problems to solve.

I like how these “Pandaren” think, or how most of them think. I have never been like most of my kind, always seen things a little different, but I never knew just how much their view clouded my own judgment. How I let my feelings overcome me instead of making them work for me. These “Sha” creatures sure has taught me a thing or two about myself, they have made me a lot stronger, though it was probably not their intention.

My new friend Cho, a Pandaren that calls himself “lorewalker”, was the first to really open my eyes for new ways to solve a problem. I’m sure that if I had not met him, the tribe of monkeys known as the Hozen would not be our allies now and I would not have befriended many of their race. I never really thanked him for that, I think.

And then there is the four Celestials of Pandaria, the four animals that all Pandaren worship. They truly opened my eyes to powers I never knew I had.

Pandaria sure had granted me much. New powers, new possibilities, new friends. But best of them all, it gave me Spike. That is the gift I am most grateful for.

The meat over the fire is starting to smell really good and when I check it I find it cooked perfectly. Spike digs into his meal the second I place it on a small leather piece we use for plates. Just before I get to dig my teeth into my meal, I hear a small sigh from the trap. The toenibbler is looking at the ribs with longing and I realize that he is properly hungry. Small guy like him can’t catch much prey.

I rip of a couple of bones with meat off and gently pushes it into the trap for him. He sniffs it and looks between me and the meat a few times before he takes a careful bite. With a squeak he digs into it and starts eating like he haven’t seen food in days. Who knows, maybe he hasn’t.

I smile when he sends me a grateful look full of warmth and start eating my own food with a good feeling.

The next day I find the little guy curled up next to me and Spike sleeping safely. The trap lies broken off to the side, probably broken to pieces by the little guys when his strength returned during the night, but I don’t care. I won’t be needing it anymore.


End file.
